


Happy Little Accidents

by alittlebriton



Series: Fluff and Nonsense [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21863665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebriton/pseuds/alittlebriton
Summary: After their first date, Lorenzo invites Andrew back for a tour. It goes as well as Andrew could have hoped.“Many artists over the centuries have found me to be a fascinating subject to depict. Have you ever sat?”“For an artist?” Andrew asks incredulously. “No. Lorenzo, I barely sit in a chair. I don’t even think I’ve met an artist.”
Relationships: Lorenzo Rey/Andrew Underhill
Series: Fluff and Nonsense [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1038332
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118
Collections: Hunter's Moon Fic Recs





	Happy Little Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> I have to say I love this pairing. Thanks to @bonibaru for the beta!
> 
> We don’t make mistakes, we make happy little accidents: Bob Ross

It’s a mansion, complete with wrought iron gate and long gravel drive. Andrew shakes his head in astonishment when Lorenzo unveils it with a flourish.   
  
“Wow.” He whistles in a compliment. “I can’t believe this is hidden in Brooklyn.”  
  
“A Warlock’s power runs deep,” Lorenzo tells him with a twinkle in his eye. “And you can’t expect the High Warlock to live in a simple apartment, can you?”  
  
“I guess not,” Andrew says as he walks through the door that Lorenzo holds open for him. He takes in the hallway and the expanse of gold, brocade and velvet he glimpses in the living room.   
  
“Double wow.” He’s past caring if he sounds like a dork. Lorenzo keeps surprising him. Sure, he’d known what to expect, mostly because of Lorenzo’s flashy jackets, but also because Alec kept dropping very unsubtle hints. But nothing quite prepares him for the splendour he sees as he follows Lorenzo into the living room. 

Lorenzo snaps his fingers and the low, sensual sound of a cello fills the air, calm but warm at the same time. Andrew’s never heard anything like it before. He could ask – should ask, because he suspects the only thing Lorenzo likes to talk about more than himself is music and art. But he’s spent the evening feeling vaguely embarrassed about being so uncultured, even if Lorenzo would probably take great pains to assure him he is not.  
  
“Drink?” Lorenzo turns to him with a grin, summoning a cocktail shaker out of thin air.   
  
“I think I’m gonna need one,” Andrew says and Lorenzo laughs a little, like he’s charmed. Andrew’s just being honest. And right now, he’s feeling a little lost.   
  
“Go ahead, look around.” Lorenzo gestures expansively with a hand, his back turned to Andrew while he makes them drinks. Andrew obeys, turning to the nearest eye-watering pile of gold and colour. He has no idea what it is, but he’ll wager it costs more than... he actually can’t think of a comparison. He wonders where he bought it. Or if it was payment.   
  
As if reading his mind, Lorenzo appears at his elbow and hands him a sweet-smelling drink. He gratefully takes a gulp and is pleased to find it’s delicious.   
  
“The Clave gifted that to me in eighteen eighty-six for payments rendered to the King of Spain. A Seelie had beguiled him, intent on putting one of the Fey folk on the throne. I managed to break the spell.” Lorenzo’s eyes crinkle when he talks and it makes him look mischievous. Andrew finds himself wanting to use words like ‘adorable’, which isn’t a word he’s found himself ever thinking before. It’s not exactly a word that’s encouraged by the Clave.  
  
He clears his throat. “It’s beautiful. I think. You’re going to have to teach me how to appreciate art. It’s not something we really learn at the Academy.”  
  
Lorenzo’s smile is wide and blinding and he looks beautiful in the warm glow of the lamps. He lightly touches Andrew’s wrist. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”  
  
Andrew can think of a few things, personally, but he’s taking this slow. It’s a lot, to give your one heart to an immortal, Alec has told him. He’s cautious. Optimistic, but cautious. There’s something about Lorenzo - his flair, how he’s the complete opposite of the austere Clave, even his pomposity - that Andrew is drawn to. Intrigued by. His eyes drop to Lorenzo’s mouth and the long fingers that curl on his sleeve. Highly attracted to.   
  
“Would you like a tour?” Lorenzo asks, gesturing to the rest of the house. In his experience, tours normally end up in the bedroom but something in Andrew senses that Lorenzo means just what he says. He likes that. He thinks Lorenzo likes to obfuscate the truth when it comes to business and his status, yes – he learned that a long time ago when Magnus saved the corrupted ley lines and Lorenzo took credit. But personally - well, he’s pretty sure Lorenzo thinks he’s enough to seduce Andrew and isn’t lying or using underhand tactics. If Andrews’s even _being_ seduced. 

At the very least, he thinks, following Lorenzo up the sweeping staircase, he’s being _dazzled_.  
  
The upstairs hallway is covered in paintings. Andrew makes an interested sound and steps closer. As he looks at them, he notices something. He turns back to peer down at the living room and the enormous portrait hanging on the wall, then looks back at the hallway paintings.  
  
“That’s. A lot of you.”  
  
Lorenzo smiles smugly and Raziel help him, Andrew is smitten. It’s hard not to fall for such a ridiculous man when said ridiculous man has been a delightful dinner companion and is now showing off hundreds of years of artistic selfies in a bid to impress _him_. He’s just a Shadowhunter, born in Idris, slightly above average at the Academy, who only shone in defensive planning. Lorenzo is a centuries-old Warlock with immense power and a bigger ego that clearly compensates for him feeling horribly insecure. For most of the evening, while Lorenzo has been charming, Andrew’s been struck with the certainty that he’s very lonely.

“Many artists over the centuries have found me to be a fascinating subject to depict. Have you ever sat?”

“For an artist?” Andrew asks incredulously. “No. Lorenzo, I barely sit in a chair. I don’t even think I’ve met an artist.”

“Not met…” Lorenzo trails off, looking shocked. “Oh, the people I must introduce you to! They’ll take one look at your bone structure and insist you model for them. If I had any talent in that area, I’d be insisting too.”

“You don’t paint?”

“No. Sadly my talents, though they are many, don’t extend that far. I simply… appreciate.”

“And collect,” Andrew adds, gesturing to the paintings.

“Indeed,” Lorenzo smiles like Andrew’s given him a compliment.

Andrew looks at the paintings again, how the techniques change and the décor updates. “Do you ever worry? I mean, it’s obvious some of these are from the eighteen hundreds. Do you worry about Mundanes spotting you and figuring things out?”

“Ah ah ah,” Lorenzo says, wagging his finger at him, still smiling. “It appears I can take the Shadowhunter out of the Institute but yet he still asks me if I break the Accords.”

“Raziel, no, that wasn’t –“ Andrew starts to protest but Lorenzo cuts him off with a wave of his hand, walking on down the corridor.

“It’s why I own all of them. There have been a few I’ve had to buy at auction after the death of the artist just to make sure they didn’t fall into the hands of a gallery, more’s the pity. Such beauty shouldn’t be locked away, but it’s the price to pay for keeping Mundanes in their blissful ignorance.”

“I really wasn’t trying to imply you were breaking the Accords,” Andrew tells him as soon as Lorenzo stops speaking and Lorenzo turns to him with a shyer smile.

“I know that, Andrew.” Underhill shivers when Lorenzo uses his name so familiarly.

“You were simply inquiring about the pitfalls of eternity. And there are many. Such is the burden of all Warlocks. But we wear it well.”

“You do,” Andrew agrees, tipping his glass at Lorenzo and Lorenzo dimples at him, clearly flattered. He sweeps them onto a wider platform, looking out over another part of the house. It’s lined with sculptures. Most, but not all, are of Lorenzo.

Andrew tries to quell the rising hysteria he feels bubbling inside of him. How is this man so utterly preposterous and yet weirdly tempting? He wants to take him apart, understand the man beneath the mirrors and the self-absorbed artistic choices and the clothes, wants to remind Lorenzo that he’s flesh and bone; desired. At the same time Andrew has no desire to stop this slow dance of enlightenment, how Lorenzo is peeling back his layers by showing the flashiest parts of himself off first. How little by little he’s getting to know him.

He takes a larger gulp of his drink.

“You have houses like this all over the world, don’t you.” It’s less a question, more of an assumption.

“I have a few pied à terres, here and there. A villa in Majorca. A ranch in Argentina.” Lorenzo gestures as if all this is normal.

“A _ranch_?”

“Horses.” Lorenzo turns and points to a portrait of him next to, yep, a really big horse. “It used to be a cattle estancia, of course. Now we breed polo horses and take tourists on outdoor treks that last for days. Well, I don’t do that, my employees do. I simply visit and clear my mind – and then use the profits to fund my artistic tastes.”

“I never really stopped to think about how Warlocks made money,” Andrew admits. “Besides charging for their services, of course.”

“Have you ever met a poor Warlock?” Lorenzo asks with a cheery laugh. “There are those, of course, that have led more austere lives. Or dedicated themselves to research or teaching at the Spiral Labyrinth. Most of us made good investments sometime in our lives and reap the benefits now.”

“Do you often get to visit? Your ranch, I mean.”

“Not as often as I’d like. Duty calls here. But it can be quite the adventure. Wonderful food, delicious wine, beautiful countryside.” Lorenzo sounds like he’s trying to sell it to Andrew. Andrew was already sold the minute he saw the horse portrait.

“I’m sure it impresses whoever you take there.”

Lorenzo takes in a breath and looks suddenly shy, raising his hand to delicately pat his hair, making sure it’s still perfect.

“I haven’t taken someone there for a very long time, my dear.”

“Huh,” says Andrew, his mouth twitching. He steps past Lorenzo to move back down the hallway, and as he does, says casually, “We could probably change that at some point, then.”

He doesn’t look back to see Lorenzo’s reaction but instead stops in front of an open door.

“Ah, my china room,” comes Lorenzo’s voice from behind him. “Ironically named of course, because while some of these ceramics came from ancient China, I’m really an avid collector of Maiolica.”

“Oh the irony,” Andrew mutters as he follows Lorenzo in closely and desperately tries to not move. The room is full with brightly coloured plates, bowls, vases and figurines on display, beautifully lit and all of it horribly, breathtakingly breakable.

“I feel I should activate my Sure-footed rune. Or Accuracy.” He pitches his voice low, worried that even speaking normally will rattle the delicate pottery.

Lorenzo takes his elbow, very gently and Andrew feels that single point of warmth diffuse through his body, chasing the alcohol.

“If you broke something I’d simply repair it with a wave of my fingers,” Lorenzo says, turning so he’s murmuring into Andrew’s ear and the air around them thickens.

Andrew swallows audibly, and turns into Lorenzo.

“Handy,” he says, just above a whisper. Lorenzo’s glaze flicks from his eyes to his mouth and back again, promise hanging heavy between them. For a wild moment Andrew thinks Lorenzo might close those last few inches and kiss him in the midst of this opulent room, as carefully as he might handle one of his many vases.

Then Lorenzo leans back and the spell is broken. Andrew feels an ache of disappointment roll through his stomach.

“It’s late,” he offers, voicing the excuse he hopes was Lorenzo’s reason and not because he didn’t want to kiss him, and then feels foolish immediately. It sounds horribly like rejection. Lorenzo’s face drops for a moment but he rallies quickly, taking Andrew’s glass from him and ushering him out of the room.

“Yes, you should be getting back. I suppose you Shadowhunters have to be ever alert.”

“Our Alertness rune gets used a lot,” Andrew says as they slowly descend the staircase. The living room glows with golden light, looking impressive spread out before them. Something catches his eye.

“Lorenzo, is that a Go board?” Andrew points to a board tucked beside the sofa.

“Do you play?” Lorenzo asks as they reach the room.

"I do,” says Andrew, happily wandering over and touching the wood reverently. “It’s one of the few Mundane games they teach us at the Academy. As it turns out, I’m rather good.”

“We should have a game sometime,” suggests Lorenzo. “That board was gifted to me by the Empress Maria Theresa of Austria in seventeen sixty-two and is a personal favourite of mine.” 

Andrew snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. “I feel we should probably use a board that won’t be horrifically stained by my fingertips.”

"Nonsense,” Lorenzo replies jovially. “A game is meant to be played, not kept as an artefact. It’s lasted this long.”

“Alright,” Andrew says, looking up from the beautiful wood. “Perhaps over another drink.”

Colour rises in Lorenzo’s cheeks and he nods. They walk in silence to Lorenzo’s front door, where he opens it for Andrew and pauses. The night air is cool and delicious against his skin.

“May I take it that I can call on you again?” Lorenzo asks, quaintly old-fashioned.

“I’d really like that,” Andrew answers honestly, stepping closer. “I was thinking perhaps you could show me some of your favourite art that has alas been lost to a gallery,” he continues, teasing Lorenzo. “I have a day off next Sunday.”

Lorenzo looks taken aback, as if he wasn’t expecting Andrew to be so on board with another date. For a horrible moment Andrew thinks he’s misread everything and Lorenzo wants to let him down gently, but when Lorenzo answers, his tone is warm.

“I would like that very much.” He grasps one of Andrew’s hands and squeezes it for emphasis.

They look at each other for a moment, and Andrew makes a decision. He leans in slowly, telegraphing his intent. When he realises that Lorenzo is tilting his head in response, he feels a flush of elation and closes his eyes.

It’s not Andrew’s first kiss by any means – he’s certainly not a blushing virgin. Even before Alec had made the gossipers of Idris practically explode with glee at running off with a male Warlock at his own wedding, Andrew had known what he was and had thoroughly explored it with several other willing people, including a mildly frustrated girl he’d gone to the Academy with, just to make sure. The night had left both of them very certain about where their desires lay and it wasn’t with each other - or really, anyone else of the opposite sex. At least now he can be honest with his colleagues about who he is likely to date.

But it is his first kiss with Lorenzo, and his first with a Warlock. The swooping feeling that runs through him and the tingling sensation in his fingers could be due to either of those facts, but he thinks it’s probably due to the man more than the magic.

Lorenzo’s mouth is a soft contrast to the rasp of his beard on Andrew’s skin and the random realisation that he’s going to have to buy so much moisturizer nearly makes him laugh into the kiss. He’s a few inches taller than Lorenzo and the angle is perfect as he moves even closer, just right to part his lips gently and flick his tongue against Lorenzo’s, cupping his face with one hand and resting a thumb against his striking cheekbone. He can feel the heat from Lorenzo’s body and the heavy silk brocade of his jacket beneath his other hand, while Lorenzo’s hands splay wide against his bicep and his waist. It’s a heady mix.

He makes a murmuring noise of dissent when Andrew pulls back, making Andrew grin and he presses another kiss to his lips, opening further to let Lorenzo explore his mouth, only realising he’s been walked backwards when he feels the hard jamb of the door pressing against his spine. Lorenzo kisses him deftly, licking into his mouth deeper and deeper until Andrew’s head is swimming. Then he’s gone and Andrew is left blinking, kiss-drunk.

“I’ll make you a portal back. Wouldn’t want you to come to harm,” Lorenzo says, pulling Andrew’s jacket closer around him and straightening him up. He’s still trying to ignore the throb between his legs. He can’t get this undone over a single kiss. But Lorenzo’s had over three hundred years of kissing practice, he realises.

This is going to be exquisite torture.

“Thank you,” he says, a little too breathlessly to be suave.

“Goodnight, Andrew,” Lorenzo says, circling his hand without looking away from Andrew, his mouth pinked and smirking. It’s both infuriating and a huge turn on.

“Goodnight, Lorenzo,” he echoes, giving him one final nod and stepping through the portal.

Andrew emerges on the front lawn of the Institute and immediately touches his mouth. His lips feel hot and he can’t stop grinning like an idiot. He’s trudging up the stairs when he feels the flutter of a fire message behind him, and he whirls round to catch it.

_I had a really good time tonight and hope you feel the same. If you’re amenable, I will pick you up at 3pm on Sunday. Perhaps we could have a light supper after a trip to the Met._

_Yours_ _in hope, Lorenzo._

His face is literally going to fall off if he keeps smiling this hard.

The Institute doors open and he steps through, not really looking where he’s going.

“Underhill,” comes a voice, sounding amused and he looks round and finally notices Alec standing there, his arms crossed. He immediately straightens up and then remembers he’s not on duty and relaxes again.

“I take it things went well, then?” Alec looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Andrew shoots back.

“You don’t have to,” Alec says, turning away. A small black tube sails over his shoulder and Andrew catches it reflexively. It’s very expensive moisturizer.

“You’re welcome,” Alec calls as he walks out of the Institute, and Andrew laughs his way back to his bedroom.


End file.
